


wrong

by rae_tnub



Category: Mothman (Folklore), Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Unreality?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_tnub/pseuds/rae_tnub
Summary: A branch snaps under you.The hands in your watch aren’t moving anymore.You stumble forward. The trees part.You’re in a clearing. It’s not the idyllic type you think you’ve seen in a movie. This clearing is dirt and roots and dead leaves and broken branches and a fresh deer carcass.Something is wrong.The carcass is gone.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: the ultimate mothman fucker works





	wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonhaebunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonhaebunny/gifts).



The trees raise above you, stretched towards a blackened sky. There are no stars. There is no moon. Something took them. 

You can see nothing but the forest around you. There are no lights. You don’t know how you can see. 

The leaves around you rustle in the wind and the cicadas chirp, but otherwise it’s silent. Every step you take seems to echo. 

You're not supposed to be here. 

You're not supposed to be here, but you are. 

You don’t know how. 

It feels like you’ve been walking in circles for hours. You don’t know how long you keep walking, but the sky stays black. 

You look at your watch. The hands move too quickly, faster than they should. 

A branch snaps under you. 

The hands in your watch aren’t moving anymore. 

You stumble forward. The trees part. 

You’re in a clearing. It’s not the idyllic type you think you’ve seen in a movie. This clearing is dirt and roots and dead leaves and broken branches and a fresh deer carcass. 

Something is wrong. 

The carcass is gone. 

You swear you saw it. 

Something roars in the distance. 

You don’t know what to, but you know you’ve gotten too close. 

There’s no choice. You run, trip over a tree root, leave the clearing behind. 

The forest circles around again. 

The clearing appears again. There’s another deer now. It’s different now. It’s rotting. It’s been there a while. You can smell it. You choke, stumble, stub your toe on a rock. 

The air is cloying, too close. 

Something is watching you. 

You leave again. 

The clearing opens. 

You don’t know how long it’s been. The forest won’t let you leave. You don’t know why. 

You can hear it sometimes. It’s otherworldly. It sees you. You see it, out of the corner of your eye. The beast. You think you’ve heard stories of it before. 

You try to leave the clearing again, and again, and again, and again, but no matter which way you leave, you always end up back here. It’s always different. A deer in a different state of decay, a fox, a bear. Something is always there. Something is always dead. 

This time, you don’t leave. You wait. 

Your watch disappeared a long time ago. You don’t know if you ever had one. 

When was the last time you ate? 

Do you have to, anymore? 

A shadow drapes over you. 

You don’t turn around. 

The clearing shifts, rights itself again. 

The deer is back. You can’t be sure, but you think it’s the same as before.

The creature roars. You understand it this time. 

“Eat,” it tells you, in a language you never learned. 

You listen. 

The creature talks as you eat. It tells you a name you know, but can’t speak, can’t hear, don’t remember, but it tells you the name your people call it. 

You finish your meal, with blood on your hands, fur in your teeth, a weight in your stomach. 

The creature roars again. It’s telling you to leave. 

You stand. 

You don’t stumble as you leave. 

You walk. 

A tree root trips you again, and you look up to see your campsite. Your friend has finally got a fire started.

There is no blood on your hands. There is no fur in your teeth. There is a weight in your stomach.

“Took you long enough,” she says. “Come on, we’re about to tell ghost stories!” 

As you sit, the boy you like grins, puts a flashlight to his chin. 

“Right here in these woods, in the sixties, the cops started getting reports of a winged, man-like creature. They ended up calling it Mothman,” he tells you. 

That's not the creature’s name. 

You see a set of eyes in the forest behind the boy you like. You know the creature is always watching.

**Author's Note:**

> blame the fact that i wanted to be purple in [bunny's]() discord for this. anyways, you can find all my links at [ my carrd](http://raetnub.carrd.co). also apparently everyone else’s fics were jokes? and i wasn’t aware? i’m sorry?


End file.
